


Ferry Man

by Besin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ferryman!Derek, Infomercial Actor!Stiles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4139226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Besin/pseuds/Besin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, I’ve never taken a ferry before. How do we do this thing?”</p><p>Derek glances once at the man, then at his Jeep – complete with a lacrosse stick hanging precariously out a window and a very large net dangling from the front bumper – and sighs the sigh of a million grievances. “You pay. You drive up. I take you to the other side before the weight of three-dozen soccer balls, sixteen pairs of cleats, and twelve poorly tied jockstraps tip us into the water.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ferry Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [definitelyahalewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelyahalewolf/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Martina. *Heart*

Derek hates working at the docks.

Fucking.

 _Hates_ it.

Seriously, whoever invented the ferry boat was a beautiful genius who needs to be shot with the largest, most devastating weapon invented by man. Preferably before they have the chance to call a lawyer.

He works long hours in utter and complete mayhem as fuck after stupid fuck attempts to load their overburdened minivans onto his beautiful deliverer of employment and depression.

And then there’s This Fucker.

“Hey, I’ve never taken a ferry before. How do we do this thing?”

Derek glances once at the man, then at his Jeep – complete with a lacrosse stick hanging precariously out a window and a very large net dangling from the front bumper – and sighs the sigh of a million grievances. “You pay. You drive up. I take you to the other side before the weight of three-dozen soccer balls, sixteen pairs of cleats, and twelve poorly tied jockstraps tip us into the water.”

The man stares at him curiously, then holds out a wad of bills.

Derek snatches them up, fingers flipping through the bills quickly to collect the fee before returning the wad with a sneer. “Load your car.”

“Shouldn’t you, like, lower the incline?”

On the upside, This Fucker is smarter than Mrs. Perkins.

Pity. That Jeep could definitely use some loving attention with a hose.

…

“So how long does this take?”

Oh course This Fucker had to come back. Derek is minding his own business, reclining in the driver’s seat, when the stranger takes the form of company. Derek glances back at the mess of moles and short cropped hair before drawling, “Half an hour.”

“Thirty minutes?”

“That’s generally what half an hour means, yes.”

“So, like… when thirty minutes pass-”

Derek doesn’t bother looking away from his wheel as he says without reservation, “If you talk to me one more time I am going to quote all your infomercials at you.”

This Fucker fucking freezes, eyes wide and gaze locked ominously on the back of Derek’s head. “What?”

“I will quote all your infomercials at you.”

“How did you know-”

“ _Lingering blues, fingering rues. Leave behind stains and stick with Kableu._ ”

This Fucker flinches. “Why do you-”

“ _Are you tired of having the wrong sized ladders for everything? Don’t shop around – get the Wonder Ladder. Use it long, use it short, use it wide, use it more! Two ladders, three ladders, one ladder to take you all the way! Hard, soft – treat it however you like! It won’t fall over! This ladder will take you all the way to Heaven._ ”

“How the hell did you memorize all that?”

“ _Two person Snuggies, cuddly as buggies-_ ”

“I did that when I was-”

“ _Discreet and classy-_ ”

“Lipstick vibe for your longer rides. Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that one, okay? I recorded it.” This Fucker sighs. “Okay, fuck discretion. Here’s the thing; you could either make fun of me for the next hour pretending you’re not a rabid fan who’s memorized all my work, or you could stop teasing me and we could maybe fuck in my Jeep after we arrive.”

Derek considers this for a short second.

…

Derek’s dick is halfway in This Fucker’s ass before he has any semblance of a second thought. “Condom,” he murmurs lightly.

The man groans, writhing wantonly in his lap with his jaw open wide. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Grabbing at their discarded clothes, Derek tugs out quickly before snatching up his wallet, retrieving a small foil packet at the dismay of his partner. “If you’d prefer not to, I could always throw you out of the Jeep while I get dressed.”

“Fuck off,” Stiles hisses. “You’re not kicking me out of my own car.”

“You call this a car?” Derek drawls, sliding the condom quickly over his dick. “That’s strange. I call it a premature example of spontaneous combustion.”

“Ha ha.”

“It’s not funny. At any moment now we could lose our lives, and who will take future soccer moms from one side of the glorified puddle to the other? Jesus is cool and all, but I have this strange inkling that he can’t bench-press a minivan.”

“You will go to strangely great length to insult someone,” This Fucker drawls.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Crawling back on top of his companion, Derek brackets his hands above mole-spattered shoulders and – in a show of prowess he usually reserves for drunken escapades through the woods – shoves his dick expertly in the presented hole without aid from any other appendages.

“LUBE,” This Fucker squeals.

Derek rolls his eyes. “You forget the condom, but god forbid we forget the lube. What? Do you have a minivan full of kids you can’t disappoint by walking funny?”

“You-”

“I’m just fucking with you, Jesus. I’m getting the lube now.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

“You’re the one who wanted to fuck the guy who didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Do you have the lube?”

“Yes, I have the fucking lube.” Snapping the cap open, Derek smears a good quantity over his fingers before running them carefully along the seam of the younger man’s ass. Then, slowly, he rocks them against the pucker with a wide grin.

This Fucker glances out of the window, then shakes his head curiously. “Okay, you already know I’m open. What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m…” Derek trails off, shrugging. “Teasing you.”

“Why the hell are you doing that? You’ve already-”

“ _Derek?_ ”

They freeze.

“ _Derek, where are you?_ ”

This Fucker’s eyes flash. “Who’s-”

“My coworker, Erica,” he answers sharply. “Get down.”

“What-”

“Get down!”

“Dude, you’re wearing a visibility vest!” This Fucker points out just as Erica steps up beside the Jeep, eyes sliding over the window to lock with utter and complete shock with Derek’s.

And they stare.

And stare.

And stare.

“ _Did you find him?_ ” a voice calls in the distance.

Erica’s eyes don’t leave Derek, and her jaw drops open in a wordless noise.

“ _What was that?_ ”

“Nothing,” she squeaks. “I see nothing.”

“ _What do you mean you see nothing?_ ”

“He’s… He’s in the bathroom.”

“ _Then tell him to hurry his ass up. We need to head out!_ ”

And still they stare.

…

It’s three days later that Derek calls the number This Fucker (thus to be referred to henceforth as Stiles.) Two weeks of general discomfort and not quite knowing what to do with the slip of paper with said info that had been shoved into the remains of a sticky condom wrapper and slipped into his wallet.

It rings twice before it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, you’ve reached Stiles. Leave your name and a message after the beep. And hey – if you’re that dude I met at the ferry I’m going to be in town until the sixth.”

Derek stares at the far wall, eyebrows raised, and drawls amusedly into the phone, “The sixth, huh?”


End file.
